The Last Lullaby, Mozenraths Story
by Karen
Summary: My own take on the origins of Mozenrath from the "Aladdin" TV series. Dedicated to the memory of late Israeli singer, Ofra Haza (November 19, 1957- February 23, 2000) whose beautiful, haunting voice in "The Prince Of Egypt" inspired the creation of Mozenrath's mother.
1. Mozenrath

The Last Lullaby

Mozenrath's Story

By Karen

Dedicated to the memory of late Israeli singer, Ofra Haza (November 19, 1957- February 23, 2000) whose beautiful, haunting voice in "The Prince Of Egypt" inspired the creation of Mozenrath's mother.

Chapter 1

The door to Destane's laboratory slowly inched open, making a slight creaking noise. For a moment the boy was still, frozen with fear. If his master should hear the noise and find him here, there was no telling what would happen...

"Little master afraid?" came a groggy sounding voice.

"No, Xerxes," young Mozenrath hissed. He hated it when Destane's familiar called him "Little master". "Shut up, or you'll get me in trouble."

The eal obeyed, and Mozenrath glanced uneasily around the dark, shadowy halls of the citadel... Finally, he relaxed... His master surly hadn't heard him open the door to the lab or he would have been here by now...

Deciding not to close it after him, the thin child slipped in easily through the half opened door with Xerxes following him. Once inside they both let out a sigh of relief. The eal quickly flew under one of the lab tables, obviously still terrified of Destane finding them there.

But Mozenrath had not come here to hide. He gazed in awe at the numerous books, ancient scrolls, and magical, scientific contraptions throughout the laboratory. He had been here before of course, after all, this was where he assisted his master in his work. But never before had eight year old Mozenrath been allowed to touch anything here, and he was certainly not allowed in the lab by himself. This was the first time the little apprentice had been able to sneak in on his own, and without his master knowing.

As he scanned the various objects in his master's lab, his gaze fell on the familiar portrait that had been there for as long as he could remember. It was a portrait of a beautiful young woman, with long dark curls, and sparkling black eyes. She had clear white skin, and full lips that curved into a warm, gentle smile. Every time the boy looked at the portrait he couldn't help but smile back...

"Hello... Mother..."

He knew for a fact that the woman in the portrait was his mother because Destane had already told him so. Also, her small, pale features where almost the exact mirror image of his own.

"That was my accursed sister, Basimah," his master would spit out in disgust whenever he looked at the portrait. "She left you here at my home when you were an infant. I don't even know why I keep her portrait here in the first place... Perhaps it's to remind me of how much I hated that wench."

All his life Mozenrath had been told that his mother had thoughtlessly abandoned him at her brother's place... But as the boy gazed at the woman's kind eyes and sweet smile, that always seemed to be directed solely at him, he found it rather difficult to believe... She did not _look_ like the kind of woman who would willingly give up her own flesh and blood... Not that he cared much anyway... He had never been an affectionate child, and had never really felt much love for anyone, although he had become oddly attached to Xerxes as a pet.

Turning away from the portrait, the boy's gaze landed on one of his master's magical items. It was a small, golden framed mirror, the one Destane always used when he wanted to look into the outside world. With a child's curiosity, he reached out for it... Once he had the mirrors delicately carved handle grasped in his hand, he gazed into the reflective glass, trying to decide what he should ask the mirror to show him first... Then it occurred to him, never before had he seen any other little boys, or had any companions his own age...

"Show me another little boy," he demanded. He thought it would be interesting to see what other boys his age were like. At once, a strange mist slowly covered the mirror growing thicker and thicker until it became a fog... then gradually, it cleared away... revealing the image of a tiny, ragged little boy, of no more then five or six years old, running through the crowded streets of what must be some sort of nearby city...

Mozenrath stared in fascination. Never in his young life had he seen a boy like this. His skin was darkly tanned, in contrast to his own pale face, his hair was thick and scruffy, while Mozenrath's was slightly curly. He was thin, but not nearly as scrawny as the young apprentice.

_"Aladdin, darling,"_ came a woman's voice. _"Come home now, it's dinner time."_

_"I'm coming Mama."_

He watched as a lovely young woman, in clothes as worn and ragged as her son's, bent down to meet the little boy. Gathering him up in her arms, she greeted him with a warm hug and a kiss on his forehead.

_"Would my mother do that if she was here?"_ the pale child wondered. He had never known what it was like to have parents, or to be cared for like that. He was beginning to feel a bit cross, even envious, and that bothered him. "Envy is for the weak," he had heard Destane say so many times.

He looked on as mother and son began to eat an almost pathetic looking meal, which consisted of nothing more then a loaf of bread, and a small bowl of dates, yet they seemed as cheerful and content as if it were a ten course banquet.

"Why is that boy so happy? He has barely enough to eat, he probably has no knowledge of magic, no great future, and he is dressed in rags!" Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes, but he managed to force them back.

"All right all right! That's enough!" he cried. He couldn't bare to watch the happy scene any longer. In an instant the little boy and his loving mama were gone, leaving the pale, sickly looking little boy to stare at his own reflection.

"What right do those street rats have to be so happy and healthy looking when they are so poor?" he demanded. He had expected to be amused at the sight of common peasants, and to feel very smug, knowing his own status as an apprentice to a powerful lord and wizard... but somehow, looking at that little family, and seeing how content and happy they were with their simple life, had only served to confuse him and make him feel as if he was, somehow, even poorer then they were... How could that be?... Poor Mozenrath glared at himself in the mirror and his sour looking reflection glared back... The pale face, the limp, curly hair, the sunken eyes... They were all so unlike that other little boy's... He could stand it no longer! In a sudden burst of childish rage, the little apprentice viciously threw the mirror to the floor. It shattered into at least twenty pieces.

The noise nearly scared poor Xerxes out of his wits. The eal immediately shot out from under the the table and darted like lightning out of the lab.

But Mozenrath did not notice. He was to busy gloating, staring down at the broken mirror in childish triumph.

"There! Now I don't have to see you anymore," he sneered. "You think you're so great! You! Dressing in rags and living in a hovel! Hah! Well I just _killed_ you!"

"Yes," an all to familiar voice hissed behind him "As I will _you!_"

The boy felt a bony hand on his shoulders. He spun around, terrified.

"What did you think you were doing in here?" Destane demanded, seizing his ward by the arm.

"Nothing!" Mozenrath said a little to quickly as he struggled to get away from his masters grip. "Let go!" He raised his arm in a gesture of defense, but was given a vicious cuff to his young shoulders and thrown roughly to the floor.

"Don't you ever raise a hand to me again!" Destane screamed. "How dare you! How dare you go poking around in my laboratory and destroying my possessions! Is this all the thanks I get for taking you in after my reptile of a sister abandoned you here?"

Mozenrath said nothing, which only served to anger his powerful master all the more...

Destane's face became white with rage. "I'll teach you some respect, you insolent little brat!" And with that he raised his gauntleted hand... An eerie bluish black light shot out from his fingertips and surrounded the boy. "Bow to me!"

Immediately, little Mozenrath felt himself being pushed down to the floor by some kind of strange force... He gritted his teeth, and struggled to resist it...

"Good," hissed Destane with a cold, arrogant smile. "You know, I just might keep you like this a while longer."

From his groveling position on the floor, the boy managed to find just enough strength to raise his head and glare hatefully at his guardian...

The Lord of The Land Of The Black Sands must have been taken aback a great deal by the boys defiant gesture... For all at once, the magic power holding Mozenrath down to the floor lifted, and was gone...

Destane sauntered his way over to where the child sat, panting from the ordeal. He then seized his apprentice by the hair. "I took that spell off of you out of pity," he hissed, lying, "but, if I ever catch you meddling in my laboratory again without my permission, I will not be so kind the next time. Do you understand?"

Once again, the child said nothing...

Infuriated, the sorcerer clutched his victim's hair even more tightly and jerked his head slightly to the left... But the boy still refused to cry out, despite the pain. "I ask you again, do you understand?"

Mozenrath took a deep breath... _"Yes!"_ he finally hissed through his clenched teeth.

"Good," Destane snapped, releasing him. "Now, get out. I don't want to see or hear you for the rest of the evening."

The little apprentice scrambled to his feet. He then stormed out of the lab in a childish sulk, leaving Destane staring after him in angry bewilderment...

He knew it had been the boy who had broken the spell and not him... but how was that possible?... The holding spell was one of the stronger ones in his books, and the one the sorcerer managed with the most ease, yet his barely trained eight year old apprentice had been able to break free of it... What on earth was that child made of?...

Although Destane highly doubted that Mozenrath was aware of what he had accomplished, he was beginning to feel a slight discomfort... and for once he became rather afraid of the child... His stony gaze wandered over to the portrait of Basimah... There she was, looking at him calmly, unafraid, and with the same icy fire that her son had just displayed...

_"Is this your doing, little sister?"_ he thought. _"That boy certainly has your nerve, I'll say that for him. It will be interesting to see what kind of a man you spawned... and what kind of a man you thought was worth giving up your own worthless hide for."_


	2. Basimah

Chapter 2

Basimah

The darkly cloaked woman hurriedly made her way through the deserted city streets of the kingdom that had once been her's... Dodging through back alleys as expertly as any street scrapper, she clung to a small bundle that started to wriggle in her arms... Leaning against the wall to catch her breath, she cradled the squirming baby boy, trying to shush him...

"Hush hush, little one," she crooned softly. "Everything is going to be all right somehow. We're going to find your sister and make a wonderful new life somewhere else. It's to dangerous to stay here." Then she shook her head with a smirk, "Dangerous" was an understatement. Ever since she had banished Destane from her kingdom nearly a year ago she had anticipated this day, but she had never dreamed her brother would return with a whole army of undead warriors at his command, and a hideous magic gauntlet on his arm.

With that strange glove, he had suddenly become even more powerful then before. Innocent citizens of The Land Of The Black Sands had either been killed, or had fled away in terror, and Basimah had been almost powerless to help them, in fact, she had barely managed to save herself and her two children. She had already sent Meri, her nearly six year old daughter, far away from this place, along with other refugees who were trying to escape the city, but Basimah and her unnamed newborn son, only three months old, had not been able to escape the siege of their families citadel so easily...

Exhausted from grief and fear, the Lady of The Land Of The Black Sands took a moment to rest, sliding herself down to the cold ground. The infant in her arms gazed up at her innocently, with a faint smile on his tiny face. Smiling a little in return, she put her own slim finger into his tiny little hand, and he grasped it tightly. It was as if he somehow sensed his mothers sorrow and was trying to reassure her.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to the child as the cool night wind blew her long, dark curls around her pale face. "I... I haven't even given you a name yet... I wanted better for your sister and you... your father and I both did..." Tears formed in her eyes as she remembered her husband, Nadim, and the reason she had banished Destane in the first place... "But now we're just going to have to make the best of it, aren't we, love? Here," she said, giving her son a soft kiss on his tiny forehead. "I'll sing you your favorite lullaby, just like I did at home."

Rocking the infant back and forth in her arms, she then began to whisper the special lullaby her own mother, who had been of Hebrew descent, once sang to her. Basimah in turn had been singing it to her own children, passing it down...

_Al na tivke, heyradem bimnucha_

_(Please do not cry, fall asleep and rest)_

_Hakshev li'ivshat hagalim_

_(Listen to the sound of the waves)_

_Otcha mardima beshir eres imcha_

_(Your mother is singing you a lullaby so you'll fall asleep)_

_Itcha eheye le'olamim_

_(I'll be with you forever)_

She sang until her baby boy was sound asleep in her arms... The tears continued to flow down her pale cheeks as she remembered her beloved Nadim and how they had loved to sing together... Despite their differences of race and social position, the Lord of The Land Of The Black Sands and the half Hebrew peasant sorceress had fallen deeply in love, and Nadim had paid no attention to the gossip and scorn of the various nobles and royals throughout the seven deserts who considered their marriage a scandal...

Destane had been the only thing that threatened their kingdom, and their new family's safety... and, in the end, Basimah had been left widowed with one child to raise and another soon to be born... A child that would never know his father... But now was not the time to be grieving for her husband, or her lost people... She had already saved Meri, now she must get her and Nadim's youngest child to safety, at any cost... Wiping the tears away, Basimah then scrambled to her feet, and held her breath as she peered out of the alleyway... There was no sign of her brother, or his mamluks... Letting out a sigh of relief, she stepped out cautiously from her hiding place. The coast was clear.

"All right," she whispered to the sleeping baby. "Everything is going to be fine, love, now let's leave this place."

As she slipped out of the alleyway, she noticed that the lamps nearby were shining even brighter as she passed them... That was strange, they seemed almost to be reacting to her presence, a new contraption of her brother's no doubt...

Clutching her baby even closer to her, Basimah continued to make her way down the barren city streets, already startled by the changes in them. Once they had been crowded, and full of life and activity, but now all the houses were empty and the city looked as still as death. With such drastic transitions, it seemed like years, although it had only been less then a week, since Destane had returned to take control of her kingdom...

Suddenly, she felt something grab her ankle. Crying out in surprise, she kicked it off, then spun around to see a horrible zombie like creature emerge from the sands, followed by several others. Her eyes widened as she recognized her brother's slaves, the mamluks.

Drawing their swords, they began to advance menacingly towards her... then one reached out with its bony hands to seize her child...

"Oh no you don't!" The young sorceress grabbed its arm. A flash of radiant blue light surrounded the creature, and within seconds there was nothing left of it but dust, blown away by the wind.

Triumphantly, Basimah faced the remaining zombies. She might not be at Nadim's or Destane's level of magic, but she could at least handle some undead lackeys.

"I suppose my big brother is to much of a coward to go after me himself, that's why he sent you boys, right?"

The creatures gave no answer... Instead they started towards her again...

"Oh no, little sister," came an all to familiar voice. "It's just that I like to save my energy for more important things."

"Destane!" she cried, turning just in time to see her brother materializing behind her.

"Guilty!" the evil wizard called out mockingly. "Nice disguise, little sister. I'll bet you thought I wouldn't even notice you in those peasant's rags of yours after seeing you in silks and jewels for six years. I don't believe you. I honestly do not believe you Basimah. You banish me from the kingdom I should rightfully rule and you think I'm going to let you and your little rat bastard get away free?"

The Lady of The Land Of The Black Sands clenched her hands and teeth in rage. She hated to hear her child called a "rat bastard".

"You _know_ why I banished you, you tyrannical..."

"Oh yes, I know quite well," he interrupted her. "And I would have succeeded in taking my throne the first time if it hadn't been for you and that weakling good Samaritan of a husband of yours!."

"Don't you dare bring Nadim into this!" she snapped, struggling to hold back her tears.

A cruel smile spread across Destane's face.

"Ahhh yes, well at least some good came from my loosing my rightful place to my baby sister. At least I got the satisfaction of watching him die. Isn't it ironic though? Now, here I am, a year later, I finally have control of The Land Of The Black Sands, and I get to watch two more of my enemies be exterminated!" Then his smile turned into a malicious leer. "But where is that pretty little girl of yours? I was hoping to have some fun with her too before..." He had barely finished his sentence, when that same flash of blue light struck him in the chest, sending him writhing in pain to the ground.

"You were saying, brother dear?" Basimah smirked.

"Seize her!" Destane growled to his mamluks, still clutching his chest from the blow.

But Basimah had already torn herself from the zombie's grasp and was running wildly down the street, still holding on tightly to her baby.

Her breathing heavy, and her heart pounding, the young mother mouthed a silent prayer as she ran, clutching her little son even closer to her. If she could only put enough distance between her and Destane... just long enough to find another place to hide... Suddenly, Basimah glimpsed a warm light from the window of a house up ahead. There were still people alive in her city?... Did she dare hope?... Perhaps they could hide her child while she shook Destane off the trail... Perhaps...

Clutching to that single golden thread of false hope, she ran up to the small house, pausing just long enough to pound desperately on the wooden door.

"Help us!" she cried to whoever might still be living inside. "Someone, please help us!" But just then her heart sank as she spotted her brother's mamluks, making their way towards her, and ready to draw their swords...

Having no choice but to flee again, she turned away from the house and sped towards a nearby alleyway...

Suddenly, Destane appeared in front of her. She backed away, and tried to run in the other direction... but his mamluks were already there, baring the way with their swords. Basimah gasped in fear. There was no way out! She was trapped!

"Bad move, little sister," her brother hissed. "Not a very bright idea, throwing that pathetic little third degree blast at me. You might have been able to get away if it had been stronger, but, then again, you were always far to merciful for your own good!" He raised his gauntleted hand, and aimed a powerful blast at Basimah... but she managed to dodge it easily.

"That's funny, big brother," she called out defiantly. "Even with your new magic toy, you still have a horrible aim!."

"Oh, you know me, sister dear. When have I ever made the same mistake twice?" He raised his hand once again... and the baby was magically lifted out of his mother's arms by the eerie light radiating from the glove...

Basimah watched in horror as her child landed into Destane's clutches. At once the infant began to struggle, crying out loud in the unfamiliar grasp. It was as if he already knew how powerful and dangerous his uncle had become.

"I don't think you will be giving me such a hard time now, Basimah," the sorcerer sneered. "Not if you want your precious little brat to make it to his first birthday!"

She narrowed her eyes. There was no longer any fear in them, only anger. "Let him go, Destane, or by Allah I swear I will make you pay!"

"I doubt that, little sister, but before I get rid of you, I think I might enjoy seeing the look on your face as you watch your youngest child die!"

He snapped his fingers, and at once the group of mamluks closed in and seized her. They quickly jerked her arms behind her back, so she could not blast them again.

The wizard placed the baby on the cold ground, then he raised his gauntleted hand.

"Are you ready, Basimah?" he grinned cruelly. "One..."

"Don't you dare touch him!" she screamed, desperately struggling to free herself.

"Two..."

"Destane, I'm warning you!"

_"Three!"_

_"Nooo!"_ Finally tearing herself from the mamluk's grasp, and with no thought for her own safety, Basimah rushed over to her son, trying to take him from harms way... But the fatal blast which had been aimed at the child hit her instead...

Blood began to trickle down from her nose and mouth, and the back of her ragged cloak was already soaked with it... Weak from the pain and loss of blood, she was no longer able to stand... Falling to her knees she crawled over to where her baby lay, unhurt... Struggling to keep her eyes open, Basimah reached out to cradle her son one last time... But it was to late... Gasping, and barely able to breathe, she collapsed in a heap at the infant's side... and closed her eyes for the last time...

Destane had been watching this scene with dark amusement, now he smiled down coldly at his sister's lifeless body...

"Trying to save your baby, little sister? Well, you always were the noble, selfless one, but who is there to stop me from killing him now?"

He bent down and snatched the baby from beside his dead mother. Curious, the wizard studied his nephew, scowling at what he saw. The tuft of curly black hair, clear, dark eyes, full lips, and pale face were almost exactly like Basimah's.

Although born and raised in the Islamic culture, their family's maternal Hebrew ancestry clearly showed in both Destane and Basimah, but more so in Basimah and her children, especially this unnamed newborn son.

Being reminded of his sister annoyed him greatly. He raised his gloved arm, preparing to do away with the squirming bundle...

"Stop!" came an unfamiliar voice behind him...

Half startled, but still managing to keep his composure, Destane turned to see who had dared address him in such a manner...

An old man was standing in the doorway of the house Basimah had just tried to get help from... He carried a walking stick, and had long white hair and a beard... He was dressed plainly, and looked very much like any other common riffraff, Destane thought, but there was something unnerving, and even eerie about him... Perhaps it was his calmly stern expression and posture... Or perhaps it was the bandage over his eyes, a sure sign of blindness, yet this old one seemed to possess a second sight somehow...

"What do you want, you old fool?" the evil sorcerer snapped. "This is none of your affair. Get out of here before I destroy you!"

"Like you did your sister? You have already spilt her innocent blood, now you would add this child's blood to your guilt as well?"

Destane's mouth became set in a firm, stubborn line.

"If I let any of her children live, they will one day become more powerful then I," he muttered. "They might even challenge me for the kingdom, which is rightfully mine."

The old man pointed his finger towards Destane.

"You are right, in a sense. This child will one day have the throne, and the kingdom, you have taken from your sister if you keep him alive. But I am warning you now, Destane, if you kill him, or any other of Basimah's children, I see a far worse fate awaiting you."

"Such as?" he sneered, fixing his stony gaze on the baby. "I haven't come this far, and waited this long, just to..." Then his mouth opened in surprise when he turned back to face the old man... and saw that he had disappeared...

Shrugging it off, but still tensing slightly, Destane once again glared down at his nephew, frowning... Maybe it was that mysterious old man's words which were making him shiver, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of bitter cold desert night wind. But for whatever reason, Destane began to consider an alternative to killing the infant...

Perhaps he could get some use out of the boy as he grew older... Perhaps it would be wiser to train him as a servant or an apprentice, rather then getting rid of him right away...

_"I swear I will make you pay..."_ Those had been Basimah's last words to him. They meant nothing, he was sure... and yet, he couldn't help but be reminded of that strange old man's prophecy... As much as he hated to admit it, Destane suddenly felt very uneasy about killing his sister's youngest child...

"Master not get rid of little one?" came a groggy sounding voice.

"No, Xerxes," Destane growled to his familiar. The little flying eal had always been terrified of confrontations with beings larger, more powerful, and more intelligent then himself, which just about qualified as every other creature in the world, but now he felt safe in coming out, and was curious to see the tiny infant.

He flew up to the child's face and sniffed him. Unafraid, the baby wriggled about and laughed.

The boy would have to have a name, Destane thought. He remembered once, he had known two men who were friends of his long dead parents. One had been called Motz and the other's name was Roth. Perhaps he could combine the two names... Motz... Roth... Motzroth... Motzenroth... _Mozenrath!_

"Perfect," the sorcerer smiled to himself. "Mozenrath is a perfectly respectable name for an apprentice of mine." Then he turned to Xerxes. "This child... this Mozenrath... may be of use to me one of these days," Destane shrugged. "I will let him live... for now..." And with that he roughly adjusted the boy in his arms, raised his gauntleted hand and disappeared in a swirl of bluish black flames, taking his orphaned nephew and his familiar with him...

* * *

"Master, who is that?" little, five year old Mozenrath asked, staring at the portrait of the beautiful young woman in his masters lab.

"Nobody," Destane snapped. "Just my wretched younger sister. Thank Allah she is gone."

The pale little boys eyes widened. "Gone?... Where is she?..."

"I don't know," the sorcerer lied. "And I really don't care either."

Little Mozenrath tilted his head thoughtfully. "You know something? She looks an awful lot like me."

Destane's face hardened. He hadn't expected his ward to ask about that portrait so soon. He silently cursed himself for not bothering to get rid of it, now he would have to tell the boy the truth... well... perhaps he didn't have to tell him the whole truth...

"That's because she was also your mother as well."

"Really?" the child asked, his eyes growing even wider. "Then where is she?"

"Haven't you been listening, boy? I told you I have no idea where she is. She abandoned you here when you were only an infant," he lied again. "She never treated me fairly or with respect, and what's more, she had the nerve to burden me with raising her child."

"Then why do you keep her portrait in your lab?" the little one asked. He was not so much upset as he was curious, and this angered his master.

"I don't know why," Destane glared at him. "But then, I don't know why I keep you around here either. Your mother had the right idea in getting rid of you."

At this cruel remark the child's face fell and he lowered his head and eyes. It looked like he was going to cry... but then, all at once his expression changed...

Mozenrath's head came up, he narrowed his dark eyes, and his little face hardened. It would have been a mature look on a child of ten, but on a five year old boy it seemed unnatural, and almost frightening...

"How could my own mother just abandon me here?" he demanded. "I thought all mothers were supposed to want and love their children!"

"Love you?" Destane sneered. "My dear boy, love is what we hear about in storys and folk songs. Besides, who could possibly love an ugly, skinny little brat like you? You're lucky I took you in at all. I could just as easily have left you in an orphanage or thrown you out to starve on the streets."

Mozenrath put his hands on his hips, stomping his foot in a childish tantrum.

"I hate you!" he yelled. _"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"_

As a reward, he received a sharp slap to his face from his master. With a cry of pain, he fell to the ground.

"Don't you dare raise your voice to me again!" he snarled. "And don't you ever take on that kind of attitude with me, you little rodent! I've put up with it enough from your mother. Now, get back to your studies. Remember, you start your apprenticeship first thing tomorrow."

The little boy scrambled to his feet, rubbing his smarting cheek. Giving his master one last dark look, he then scurried out of the laboratory.

Destane watched the child leave, staring after him in both surprise and anger. How bold that young one was getting. He'd seen a temper like that before... He'd seen the same stubbornness and defiance in another's eyes...

The sorcerer's gaze wandered over to the portrait of his sister... There she was, looking as beautiful and haughty as always... After destroying all of Basimah and Meri's possessions, and clearing out their living quarters, leaving no evidence that the woman and the little girl had ever existed, he had taken that portrait from Basimah's now emptied room, and put it in his newly constructed laboratory the night she died. Not as a memorial, but much in the way a victorious army would display the banners of their slain enemies as war trophies.

Destane had expected to feel a smug satisfaction in looking at that painting every day, and remembering how he had conquered The Land Of The Black Sands. But instead, seeing his sister's smile, seeing the strength and intelligence in her beautiful eyes, only served to frustrate and anger him. Sometimes he could almost swear he heard her all to familiar sweet, clear voice laughing at him from the portrait.

_"You may have taken my home and my family from me, brother dear,"_ she seemed to say. _"You may be lying to my son about me, mercilessly crushing all the good and gentle qualities out of him so he grows up to be an even worse monster then you are... But you cannot make him cry. And you cannot break his will any more then you could break mine."_

Destane slowly lowered his eyes away from the portrait. _"I'm beginning to realize that, little sister..." _he thought. _"I'm beginning to realize that..."_


	3. Meri

Chapter 3

Meri

"Mama, will you sing us that lullaby one more time?" little Meri asked.

Basimah smiled. It looked like her mothers old Hebrew songs were as popular with her own children as they had been with her when she was a little girl... Perhaps one day, when her children were old enough, she would begin to teach then what she knew of magic... just as her own mother had taught her...

"All right, darling, but then I have to take baby back to the nursery and put him to bed, okay?"

The child nodded. "Okay, Mama. I'm glad we have a new baby now, you know." She gazed lovingly at her new little brother in her mother's arms.

Her mother smiled at this display of affection towards the baby. Usually an older sibling tended to become very envious, and even hateful, of the younger one... Basimah knew this from recent personal experience... All at once her smile disappeared, and she lowered her head sadly...

"Mama?" Meri touched her arm. "Mama, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Oh, nothing, dear..."

But clever little five year old Meri knew her mother better then that by now. "Are you thinking about Daddy?" she asked.

"Yes," Basimah admitted softly. "Sometimes... on nights like this... I miss him..."

Meri nodded sadly. "Yes, I miss him too, Mama... After Daddy died I always felt lonely without him..." Then she smiled. "But that's why I love the baby so much. Since he's come, I'm not so lonesome anymore." She tickled the baby's tummy and he laughed.

The Lady of The Land Of The Black Sands touched her daughter's cheek lovingly. "Neither am I, sweetheart. I'm so lucky to have two such wonderful children," she said, her warm smile returning. She gently tousled her little girls hair.

Beaming, Meri snuggled down under the covers and closed her eyes as Basimah rocked the new baby back and forth, singing their favorite lullaby...

_Al na tivke, heyradem bimnucha_ _(Please do not cry, fall asleep and rest)_

_Hakshev li'ivshat hagalim_ _(Listen to the sound of the waves)_

_Otcha mardima beshir eres imcha_ _(Your mother is singing you a lullaby so you'll fall asleep)_

_Itcha eheye le'olamim __(I'll be with you forever)_

Basimah continued to sing to her children, repeating the lullaby until Meri was fast asleep in bed and the baby had fallen fast asleep in her arms... Gently and lovingly, she tucked the warm sheets over her oldest child's shoulders... It was an unusually cold night tonight...

Giving Meri a last goodnight kiss on the cheek, she then blew out the lamp above the bed and left the room with her sleeping baby son, closing the door softly behind her...

_"Nadim, my love,"_ she thought as she brushed away a single tear with one arm, while cuddling the baby with the other. _"If only you could have lived to see them both."_

* * *

Later that night, little Meri woke to hear the horrible sounds of battle outside the citadel... War cries, weapons clashing, and despairing screams of pain and death... Shivering in her bed, hardly daring to move, Meri shut her eyes again, praying that this was just a nightmare and would be over soon...

_"Mama,"_ the little girl pleaded in her mind. _"Please come and wake me up, please. This bad dream is getting scarier!"_

As if by magic, Basimah suddenly appeared by her bed... She was smiling, but there was a great amount of fear showing in her eyes...

"Mama!" Meri cried out, reaching out to her. Basimah knelt down and took her daughter into her arms.

"Mama," Meri whimpered. "Make it stop! Make it go away!"

"I'm afraid I can't, my darling," she answered, trying desperately to hold back her tears for Meri's sake. "Destane has come back for us. I always thought he might, but I never thought he would be so powerful as this. He is attacking our city and our people even as we speak."

The child's eyes widened in terror. "Uncle Destane? You mean the man who killed daddy? What'll we do, Mama?"

"Hush!" her mother chastised. Fear and grief made her voice much harsher then she had meant it to be. "Right now we must think about saving our people, as well as what is left of our family." As she spoke, she snatched two traveling cloaks from Meris closet and put the smaller one on her daughter.

"Mama," the little girl asked, tugging at Basimah's sleeve. "What's going to happen to us?"

Her mother put her hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "Nothing is going to happen to any of us, I promise you that, Meri." Then she led her eldest child over to to an old secret compartment in the wall. When she pushed it open it became a door to a passageway that led to the back of the citadel... It had been placed there long ago, in case the family ever needed to escape their home in an emergency...

"Meri, my darling, you must do exactly as I tell you," Basimah instructed gently. "Go through this passage. Once you're at the end, open the door there and go out. There will be a group of caravan traders waiting for you. They are helping me to get our people to safety, out of the city. They will take you along with the other refugees and look after you until I come for you later."

"But, Mama, what about you and baby," Meri whispered, her voice shaking.

"I'm going to get him now. We'll catch up with you, don't worry. But you must go now, darling. Please hurry!" She planted a kiss on her daughter's cheek and gave her a gentle nudge through the passages entrance...

Meri could just make out her mothers last few words before the door closed behind her...

"I love you!"

* * *

"Mozenrath, more of that green liquid!" Destane commanded.

At once his sixteen year old apprentice turned from the book he had been reading and scurried over to where the magic potions were kept. "Yes, Sir."

His master frowned. "You know I demand that you read my books and learn all you can from them, but now you are supposed to assisting me in my work. Don't let me catch you neglecting your duties, boy."

The young man scowled. He didn't see the comparison between studying his guardians books and neglecting his duties as an apprentice. He wanted to talk back to Destane, to defend himself in some way, but he knew from past experiences that it was not the wisest thing to anger him, so instead he just bit his lip and nodded. "Yes, Master."

The sorcerer gave him a cold, tight smile, then continued with his latest experiment.

As he awaited the next few orders from his master, Mozenrath's gaze wandered over to the old faded painting on the wall... Basimah's clear black eyes gazed back at him... Had she ever been in this laboratory before, he wondered... Had she been a user of magic like Destane?... Would he be assisting her like this too if she had not left him here all those years ago?...

"Mozenrath!" came his masters sharp voice. "What are you doing?."

"Nothing," the boy answered quickly.

But Destane wasn't fooled. "You were gawking at that portrait again, weren't you?" he demanded.

"No," he protested. But Destane began to advance angrily towards him. Mozenrath backed against the wall in fear.

"How many times to I have to tell you, boy," he growled, grabbing the boys shoulders and shaking him violently. "Your mother was a worthless, good for nothing little wench who abandoned her only child here at my home without any consideration for me, or you! Anyone else would not have been so kind as to take you in and give you a decent education as I have done, and this is the thanks I get? You ignoring your duties and staring at that portrait of that infernal woman!?"

"I... I... I'm sorry Master..." young Mozenrath whispered, his eyes cast down...

Destane gave him a cold, tight smile. "That's a good lad," he hissed, releasing his apprentice. "To tell you the truth, I am quite impressed by your progress, dear boy. You've been my assistant for how many years now?"

"Eleven, almost twelve," Mozenrath answered quietly.

The sorcerer nodded thoughtfully. "Hmmm, yes, almost twelve years. I think It's time you had an assistant or servant of your own now."

"Well, I have Xerxes."

"Don't argue with me," Destane snapped. "Anyway, Xerxes is just a simple minded familiar, and there is only so much he can do. Why else would I keep you here all these years?" Then he clapped his hands and at once two mamluks appeared.

"Bring me the girl!" he commanded. Obediently, the zombies left to fetch her.

Mozenrath's eyes widened... So his master had already taken the liberty of obtaining a new slave...

As if reading his ward's thoughts, Destane nodded. "I got her just today, and a feisty little thing she is too. Of course, she is nothing more then a common street rat, but that only means that she'll never be missed."

Just then, the doors of the laboratory opened and in came the two mamluks... In their grasp, was the most attractive young girl Mozenrath had ever seen. She was younger then him, probably no more then thirteen or fourteen. Her skin was unusually dark, in contrast to his own pale face, and her hair was an intriguing smoky black color which came close to being almost dark brown. But her most startling features were her eyes, so deep set, and the brilliant blue green of the ocean. If not for her ragged clothing and expression of rage Mozenrath thought she might almost have been very pretty.

"Let me go!" she protested angrily as the zombies dragged her over to Destane. "Let me go!"

"I'm afraid not, my dear," the sorcerer leered. "You might be interested to know that you belong to me now. You're mine, to do with as I choose, and I choose to give you to my young assistant here." He pointed to Mozenrath.

The girl glared at him. "I won't be given to _anyone!_ Especially not to some arrogant, pampered palace brat!"

Mozenrath lifted an eyebrow, impressed by this child's spirit.

Destane took the rope from the mamluks that the girl was bound to. "Are you going to let her talk to you like that?" he smirked.

The boy took a deep breath, he wasn't all that used to being the one giving orders. "You will show the proper respect for your new master!" he commanded.

The young rebel sneered, giving him a disgusted look. "Is that the best you can do? Anyway, I'm showing you all the respect you deserve... _None!_" And before Destane could stop her, she jerked the rope out of the sorcerers grip. Shoving him roughly away, she ran towards the door, trying to make a break for it...

But Mozenrath was to quick. He swiftly grabbed the rope and stubbornly held on as the captive struggled to free herself.

"Let me go!" she screamed. "Let me go!"

The mamluks drew their swords and started towards her... but the young apprentice motioned them away...

"Stop it!" he cried to the struggling girl. For once in his life he was actually concerned for someone else's safety. If she kept resisting, there was no telling what Destane would do to her... But the girl was still pulling back on the rope, trying desperately to free herself...

"Let go!" she screamed again.

Suddenly, a wicked smile spread across Mozenrath's face.. "As you wish," he grinned. And with that he released the rope, just as she was pulling back even harder on it, catching her off balance... She landed on the floor with an "Ummph!"

Destane gave a cruel chuckle as the mamluks seized the young girl again and pulled her to her feet. "Have her taken to the guest chambers and make sure she stays there," he ordered.

The boy watched as his master's slaves led the unfortunate street urchin away... She turned her head, and managed to give him one last angry glare before the zombies dragged her, struggling, from the laboratory...

* * *

Later that evening, the young apprentice found himself approaching the door to the guest room where the little street mouse was being held... Against his masters orders, he had managed to smuggle a small amount of food for the new captive...

"Food for new servant girl?" Xerxes asked.

Mozenrath grabbed the eal's mouth roughly. "Yes, Xerxes, now shut up before Destane hears us!" he hissed.

Quietly, the boy started to open the door. "My master ordered me not to give you anything to eat until you agree not to try to run away again," he explained as he started to enter. "But..." Then his eyes grew wide as he looked around the room... The girl was gone, and all that was left of the two mamluk guards were a few stray body parts hopping helplessly about the room...

"By Allah," he muttered. "What on earth..." Then he saw the sheet tied to the post of the bed... It went straight out the window...

Intrigued rather then angry, Mozenrath looked down from the citadel window and saw the girl just hopping down from the rope... Grinning, he waited until she was out of sight, then he climbed down the rope as well...

He continued to follow her as she made her way from the citadel grounds... Just then, he noticed two mamluks patrolling near the entrance... They were headed this way, and any minute they would spot the little escapee...

"Mamluks!" Mozenrath called out. The zombie like guards turned to him, awaiting orders, while the young girl froze in fear only a few feet behind them...

"Ummm..." Mozenrath thought quickly as he gazed past the mamluks to her terrified face. "Ummm... There's two other mamluks that have been destroyed in my room. Go take care of it!" he ordered.

At once, the mamluks obeyed. Slouching, they started on their way back into the citadel... The young girl just stood there for a moment, looking at Mozenrath with an expression of both gratitude and shock... The apprentice stared back at her too... Their young eyes met... and held...

Then, all at once, Mozenrath adjusted himself. Breaking the spell, he lowered his eyes and gave the girl a rather cheeky smile, followed by a mocking bow.

When he looked up again, he saw that the girl had already left. He chuckled to himself. She certainly wasted no time! Still fascinated, he continued to follow her...

Unaware she was still being followed, the young girl continued to make her way through the empty city... Mozenrath kept his distance behind her as she left the kingdom and entered the the surrounding desert...

_"Now, where on earth is she planning on going?"_ the boy wondered. _"There can't be another city or village within miles of here."_

It was then that he noticed what looked like a small well just outside the citys entrance. A young woman, a trifle older then him, but young, was drawing a bucket of water. Behind her were two camels and a small horse. Mozenrath guessed that there was a Bedouin caravan nearby. Destane had told him of these nomad desert people who often traded and sold their goods. They usually stopped at local wells for water for themselves and their animals.

He watched with interest as the girl approached the young woman.

"Please," she begged. "My name's Sadira and I need water. I have a long journey ahead of me."

"Of course," The young woman nodded, pouring the bucket into a large traveling canteen tied to the camels saddle. "I'm Meri. Tell me then, where are you bound, Sadira?"

"Agrabah."

Mozenrath could hear her whistle through her teeth. "That's quite a long way to travel for one so young. May Allah protect you."

"Thank you." The girl accepted the filled canteen and started on her way...

Without thinking, Mozenrath then stepped from his hiding place in the shadows and watched in awe as the pretty young street mouse grew farther and farther away, until he could barely see her thin form disappearing over a sand dune...

Then he noticed that the young Bedouin woman by the well was looking at him strangely, almost as if she had seen a ghost...

"By Allah," she whispered, drawing closer. "Where... Where did you come from?..."

As she drew nearer, Mozenrath saw that she was a very pretty woman, with clear black eyes and long dark curls that she kept tied back. She was very fair skinned, and would have been quite pale if she had not been brought up under the hot desert sun.

"I am Mozenrath," The boy crossed his arms. "I live here. My master Destane is lord of these lands."

"Destane? Your master?"

"Yes, and my uncle too, unfortunately," he smirked.

At this, the woman's eyes widened and her face grew even paler...

"What's wrong?" Mozenrath asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable...

The young woman smiled broadly. "Oh... nothing... It's just that... I... I didn't expect to see you... here... of all places..." She laughed "I thought I would never see you again... and now you're _here!_ I _knew_ you cared about our family!"

"Family?" The boy tilted his head, his hands on his hips. "Why would I care about that?"

Surprised, she took a step back. "Because... you're... You're my brother..."

Mozenrath made a face. "What?"

"You didn't know?..." the young woman asked softly...

"I didn't know what?"

For a moment she looked confused, hurt, and even scared... Then, as if pulling herself together, she approached Mozenrath, reaching for his hand. "But you're _here! _You... you _must_ know!"

"Be careful, desert rat!" the young apprentice snapped, pulling his hand back.

"No, please," she persisted. "Please, you _must_ believe! I am Meri, and you were born of my mother, Basimah, and my father, Nadim! _You are my brother!_"

_Basimah..._ That was the name of the woman in the portrait... Destane's sister, and his own mother... But he wasn't yet convinced...

"My mother?" he sneered. "She left me at Destane's home when I was a child, and she hasn't been back since! You're lying!" he accused.

She shook her head, tears rolling down her fair cheeks. "No, our mother disappeared years ago, but she would never abandon any of us! I _know_ she wouldn't! She saved my life, as well as the lives of many of our people."

"Saved your life? From whom?"

The young woman's face hardened and she narrowed her eyes angrily. "Ask the man you call_ "Master,"_ she said in a dangerously controlled voice.

_"What?"_ Mozenrath gasped. He shook his head in disbelief. Destane was harsh, and he could even be cruel allot of the time, but he refused to believe that his master would go so far as to take a life!

"Our mother would _never_ leave you with such a terrible man as Destane!" Meri said, reaching out for him. "She _loved_ you!"

"Enough!" he snapped, grabbing her arm, and shoving her away. With a startled cry, she landed on her hands and knees to the cold ground.

"You will regret this!" he snarled. Then he turned and stormed his way back to the citadel...

Meri sat there... sobbing quietly... Then she began to rock herself back and forth... whispering a familiar song...

_Al na tivke, heyradem bimnucha_ _(Please do not cry, fall asleep and rest)_ _Hakshev li'ivshat hagalim_ _(Listen to the sound of the waves)_ _Otcha mardima beshir eres imcha_ _(Your mother is singing you a lullaby so you'll fall asleep)_ _Itcha eheye le'olamim_

_(I'll be with you forever)_

The moment Mozenrath heard her sing he stopped and slowly turned around... That song... that tune... it was as if he had heard it somewhere before... like a memory from a dream...

The young woman was still kneeling on the ground... When she felt the boy's eyes on her, she looked up at him with a tiny, faint smile, tears streaming down her pale face... He looked at her... and both pairs of clear black eyes met... With a gasp, Mozenrath realized that he _knew_ those eyes... for they were the same as the woman in the portrait...

"I might have known!" a painfully familiar deep voice growled behind him. "I might have known you two would find each other!."

The boy spun around to see his old teacher standing there, glaring at him in anger.

"Foolish child!" Destane snarled. "First you let that street rat escape, now you let the daughter of that accursed wench get even one foot near my kingdom?"

Before Mozenrath could even speak, two mamluks appeared from the sands and seized Meri, dragging her to her feet.

"Take her to the dungeon!" the sorcerer commanded.

The young apprentice grabbed his mentor's arm. "No, please, Master..."

"Don't start with me, boy!" Destane shoved him away. "You're lucky I'm not sending _you_ to the dungeon as well!"

"Let her go!" Mozenrath continued to plead. "She didn't do anything... I..."

But his sentence was cut off by a sharp blow to his shoulders. Yelping in pain, the boy fell to the ground.

"You insolent, worthless little..." Destane fumed as he raised his hand to strike his ward...

But Meri, who had finally managed to struggle out of the mamluk's grasp, was already between them. "Don't touch him!" she growled.

The wizard pulled away, furious... Then a cold smile slowly spread across his face... "No," he hissed. "On second thought, I think I'd prefer to get rid of you _both_ right now, little niece."

Mozenrath watched in horror as the light began to radiate from Destane's gauntlet... He knew the danger signals...

_"No!"_ he cried, pulling a shocked Meri away from the fatal blast. Then he grabbed her arm. "Come on, we have to get away from here!"

Mozenrath and Meri took off running. Neither of them where sure how much distance they could put between themselves and Destane, or how they could find any safety in the open desert...

"I... I..." Meri gasped as she struggled to keep up with her faster brother. "I never knew he was _that_ powerful!"

"There's allot you don't know about my master," the boy muttered, panting. "And there is allot _I_ don't know about him either, apparently..."

Out of breath, the children of Basimah collapsed behind a sand dune...

"Did we lose him?" Meri asked hopefully, trying to catch her breath.

Mozenrath looked over his shoulder. "I think so, for now at least."

"Good," she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she turned to him with a faint, half smile. "So... You were really his apprentice?"

Mozenrath nodded. "Yes, ever since I was a child. When my mother left me here at Destane's home..."

"She wouldn't leave you here!" Meri snapped. "I _know_ she wouldn't. And this was once _our_ home, not his!"

"Oh, really?" he scoffed. "If this was our home, and if our mother would never leave me with Destane, then where is she now? Where was she when I was beaten for speaking out and punished for each mistake I made? Where was she when you were taken in by that caravan, and where is she now, when you and I are in very real danger?"

Meri sighed. "I... I don't know..." she admitted... Then she narrowed her eyes... "But I think I have a pretty good guess..."

Young Mozenrath was about to ask her what she was talking about, when Destane suddenly materialized in front of them...

"Stupid little fools!" he smirked. "You underestimated my powers. Did you really think you could get away that easily?"

Meri backed away, and Mozenrath could see her hands trembling...

Destane took a few menacing steps towards Mozenrath and Meri... He raised his gauntlet and aimed it straight at Mozenrath who was nearly paralyzed with shock...

_"Oh no you don't!"_ Meri cried. Without thinking of her own safety, she threw herself into the line of fire, pushing her brother straight out of harms way...

Mozenrath landed, stunned but unhurt, on the ground... He quickly regained his wits and scrambled to his feet...

"Meri?" he called, glancing behind him... He opened his mouth, horrified at what he saw... His sister was laying on the cold ground... motionless...

_"No!"_ he cried. Then he turned to glare hatefully at his master, with even more rage then Destane had shown. Summoning all of his nearly seventeen year old strength, he threw himself at his master. The next moment, pupil and teacher were wrestling on the ground. Mozenrath was trying desperately to get a hold of that glove on the sorcerer's arm. Finally, he got a good grip on it and gave a hard tug... It came off... Mozenrath gasped in horror. For under the glove was not the arm of a man, but the bony skeleton of a corpse!

Destane smiled coldly. "Well, it looks like my secret's out, doesn't it? I gave my arm for the power I have now. It's like I've always told you, boy, sometimes sacrifices must be made if we are to get what we want." Then his face hardened into a glare of uncontrolled rage. "I might have known you would risk your life to save that desert rat... just as your own mother _died_ trying to save _you!_"

The boys eyes widened... For a moment he couldn't speak... _"What?..."_ he finally managed to whisper.

"And now, with or without that glove, I'm going to do what I should have done _sixteen years ago!_"

Mozenrath clenched his teeth and hands in anger, then he raised the gauntlet...

"No!" Destane snarled, making his way towards him.

"Stay back!" the boy ordered. "Or I'll use it! I swear I will!"

"Foolish boy! Don't you realize how powerful that thing is? Look what it did to me!" he cried, exposing his hideous skeletal arm. "Is _this_ how you want to end up?"

Mozenrath looked from the gauntlet to Meri... and then back to the gauntlet again... "I... I... _I don't care!"_ he cried. And with that, he thrust the glove onto his hand...

Destane backed away in fear as the gauntlet was illuminated with a familiar bluish black light...

Mozenrath swallowed back a scream of pain... He gritted his teeth and bit his lip as he felt the magic eating away at his arm... It was the most maddening pain he had ever known... When it was gone, he opened his eyes and looked down at the gauntlet which was glowing brilliantly on his arm... A cold smile, almost exactly like Destane's, spread across his face... Now _he_ was the one with the power!

The sorcerer went pale, trembling with fear. Without the glove he was nearly powerless! Unlike his sister, he had never been able to work real magic without the help of his various scientific objects, books and scrolls... "Now... Now now, my boy... Listen... listen to me..."

"I'm through listening to you old man!" Mozenrath growled. "For sixteen years I've been your slave... Now I think it's time _you_ were _mine_ for a change!" And before his former master could even lift up his hand in protest, the eerie blue light from the gauntlet surrounded him, eating away at his skin, wearing down his fine robes... Finally there was nothing left but a horrible zombie like imitation of Destane... The evil Lord of The Land Of The Black Sands had been turned into a mindless slave, a mamluk, by his own student...

"Now that's more like it!" the former apprentice smiled to himself... But then his smile evaporated once he saw Meri...

He knelt by her and touched her cheek, relieved to see that she was still breathing. "Meri?..." he said. "Meri... wake up... please..."

Slowly she opened her eyes, gasping on the blood that was beginning to trickle from her mouth and nose. He lifted her up a little to ease her breathing.

"You saved my life," Mozenrath whispered.

In spite of her pain, she managed a weak smile. "Well, I had to. I'm your big sister."

He patted her arm. "You're going to be all right," he reassured her.

But Meri shook her head. "No... please... stay with me... until... until..."

Mozenrath throat tightened. He felt the hot, stinging tears stream down his face before he could brush them away. "This is all my fault! Destane was aiming at _me_ not you. Why did you do it? Damn you!" he cried out in frustration. "Why did you have to come back here at all?"

"Why do you think? I came back hoping to find you, and I did... Of course it didn't go exactly as I had planned..." she chuckled ruefully, "but at least I got to see you again for a little while... if only for this one time..."

"No!" Mozenrath shook his head vigorously. "No! Don't talk like that!" he ordered. "You're going to be all right!"

Meri smiled and touched his cheek with her frail looking white hand... "I love you... little brother..." she whispered...

He could only watch helplessly as her hand grew limp... then fell to her side...

* * *

Later that evening, Mozenrath was sitting on his master's old throne, dressed in the finest robes from Destane's wardrobe. Destane himself had been positioned outside the citadel with the other mamluks on guard duty.

The young sorcerer scowled when he saw Xerxes enter the room.

"Master gone?" the eal asked.

"Yes, Xerxes, Destane is gone. I am your master now. The new Lord of The Land Of The Black Sands."

He didn't say this as if he were proud of it... more like he was _disgusted_. He had the old man's kingdom, his power, and even his _humanity_... But, deep inside, he felt he had lost more then he had gained, and had sacrificed to much for to little.

_"Sacrifices must be made if we are to get what we want,"_ he remembered his master saying...

Mozenrath looked down at the glove on his arm... Had it been this same glove that took his mother's life?... Now it had taken his sister's... What would it do to _him?_ he wondered...

Feeling a little sick, he left the throne room, brushing past a startled Xerxes. He then wandered down the dark, cold hallways of the citadel and into Destane's old laboratory... There she was, the same as always. She was looking at him with that same warm gentle smile... but Mozenrath detected a hint of sadness in her eyes, or was that just his imagination?...

"You never abandoned me, did you?" he whispered. "You got Meri and the others into that caravan, then you tried to save me..." His voice trailed off and he felt tears forming in his eyes, but he roughly wiped them away.

"Why did this happen?" he demanded. "First you die trying to save my life, and now Meri! It would have been better if I had never been born, then you both might still be here!"

His rage mounting, the young lord raised his gauntleted arm, just as Destane used to do_. "I hate you!"_ he cried. "I hate you both for dying so that _I_ could live!" He tore off the glove, revealing his skeletal arm and hand. _"Now, look at me!"_ he screamed, glaring down at it in disgust.

Tears were streaming down his pallid cheeks, but he took no notice of them this time. Putting the gauntlet back on, he aimed a powerful blast at the portrait. It shattered into at least ten pieces. Smiling cruelly, Mozenrath raised his arm once again...

"Are you sure you want to destroy it further?" came a strange, unfamiliar voice...

Mozenrath spun around to see an old man standing next to him... He was tall and carried a walking stick to guide him... The young wizard couldn't help but stare at the bandage around his head that covered his eyes...

"What do you want old man?" he growled.

"Nothing," was the simple answer. "Only to give you a warning."

"And what might that be?"

The old man tilted his head slightly, a look of pity on his face. "Beware of that glove, child, for it can lead you to your doom in two ways. If you should ever lose it, or it's power, I see an evil reborn... And if you continue to wear it and use it's magic then you shall not live for very long afterwards... Only by destroying the power within the glove will you be able to free yourself from it's curse."

The boy crossed his arms defensively, but there was fear in his eyes. "What?... What are you talking about, you old fool?..."

"You will know soon enough," the old man said. Then he pointed to the wrecked portrait of Basimah. "I would not wish to destroy that any further if I were you... Mozenrath..."

The boy gazed at the ruined pieces... Her body had been destroyed, so only from the neck up was the portrait intact... Then he turned back to the old man. "Hey, how did you know my..." Mozenrath's eyes widened in surprise when he saw that the stranger was gone... "Name..." he muttered... He shook his head.. Perhaps that strange old man was just a dream, or a mental illusion...

It was then that he became aware of the tears that had been flowing down his face the whole time... Quickly, he brushed them away with his gauntleted hand and stormed out of the laboratory...

He never noticed that his tears had landed on the remains of his mothers portrait... directly on to her face... It almost looked like _she_ was crying too...

The End

Aladdin TV series © 1994/95 Disney


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